


like a flute

by snuggletart



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: M/M, i dont care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 17:44:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10541406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snuggletart/pseuds/snuggletart
Summary: dark has something to celebrate





	

**Author's Note:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

The commonplace apathy of Anti's expression comes dangerously close to confusion when Dark shoves the champagne glass into his hand, the liquid inside bubbling almost as brightly as the tone of the voice he uses to answer a question Anti didn't need to ask. 

"It's my anniversary!"  
Dark seems a little too pleased with himself. If it weren't for the fact that Anti knew neither of them could feel the effects of alcohol, he'd assume the other demon had drank his dinner already.

"Anniversary of what? You discovering your one and only braincell?" Anti makes sure to sound as uninterested as possible, tapping ash from his cigarette over the edge of the balcony. It's still light outside - Anti would say it's too early for champagne, but both the look on Dark's face, and his frame standing between Anti and the doorway back inside, tells him the setting sun means nothing.

Accustomed to the pins and needles of Anti's insults, Dark shrugs it off easily and pours his own glass of too-expensive-so-he-definitely-stole-it champagne before resting the bottle on the balcony's edge. 

"You're hilarious," he replies as dryly as possible, saddling up next to the green-haired demon as though they'd been companions their whole lives. Anti blows smoke not in his face, but in his direction, waiting wordlessly for the elaboration he expects. Dark leans back against the railing, his elbows perched behind him to spread his weight, and locks eyes with the other man.

"My first possession," he smiles hard enough to create creases at the edges of his eyes. It would be a welcoming expression, if Anti didn't know him better than that. He can see the sharp points of Dark's teeth inside the grin. 

Anti doesn't have to speak, so he doesn't. He just takes another drag off his cigarette and relents with a raised eyebrow to give Dark the permission they both know he doesn't really need to keep speaking. 

"You know this isn't my first rodeo," the redhead goes on, like Anti knew he would. There's a tone of pride in his voice that nearly outshines the actual value of his words. "But this is the anniversary of my _first_. My possession virginity, if you will."

Anti doesn't bite his silence this time, instead coughing out a disgusted noise as Dark laughs at either his own joke, or his companion's reaction to it.  
Smoke curls around them as Anti snuffs the cigarette out and tosses the filter off the edge of the terrace - he thinks about discarding the champagne in the same manner, but keeps the idea in the 'thoughts-instead-of-actions' stage. 

"I'm not drinking to any kind of cherry-popping," he reminds coldly, still holding the glass in what he's sure must be an improper fashion. "I don't even drink, ya tit."

"No, you don't get drunk." Dark refutes immediately, a finger raised in the space between their bodies. He's still got this self-righteous pride about him, like it's his birthday and he can get away with whatever he wants. Anti's surprised he isn't wearing a party hat.

"Besides, babe, this is a special occasion!" he talks in exclaimation marks, angling his head towards Anti and the champagne flute that he seems to be trying to analyze. 

" _Your_ special occasion." Anti doesn't care if he's pissing on Dark's metaphorical birthday candles. "I don't see why I'm part of this."

"It's the first time I've ever had someone to celebrate it with."

It's very sudden - how heavy the air around them seems to become, but maybe Anti is the only one who feels so, because Dark's broad shoulders bounce with a shrug. He's always been candid with his words, carefully chosen to align them like dominos, but this seems haphazardly genuine. He's still smiling.

"See, normally when you possess somebody, you don't go around celebrating it with their buddies." He gestures meaninglessly - stolen fingers on the stolen hand of his stolen body, but still so throughly his own. "You're the first one I've been able to share it with."

The silence between them feels like the world's calmest standoff; like Dark's kind words were tiny cupids arrows against Anti's sound defenses. He's never been one to sway to the romantic nuances of Mark's lookalike, and it wasn't going to start now, in the edges of his blank and unimpressed expression. It's only when Dark chuckles and turns his body to face him, that Anti even seems to regard his existence.

"In how many years?" he entertains the Birthday Boy out of curiosity and curiosity alone. 

Likely in exaggerated showmanship, Dark purses his lips and sighs through his nose, as though he's trying to remember.  
"Uh... a lot."

His smile is a textbook Poker Tell at best - Anti knows there's more to be said, so he waits. When that doesn't work, he straightens up, holding his champagne glass by the rim. 

"Give me a number, and I'll drink with you." Anti wagers. He can play this game, too. 

Snorting incredulously, Dark dips his chin towards his chest in faux-defeat, tutting his lover's name like a disappointed parent.  
"It's rude to ask a guy's age, yanno."

Anti shrugs with only one of his shoulders, thinking about emptying his glass over the edge of the balcony and intoxicating the flowers below them. They'd get more out of it than he would.  
" _You_ brought it up."

He usually doesn't play with words like this - unless he has something worth saying, he won't. But unearthed curiosity is there in his breath, as it had been since the demons collided. Two entities of the same breed but different litters. He'd always known that Dark's existence long surpassed his own, but didn't want to count with benchmarks. He wanted a number.  
That desire steels his expression into their waiting game, because eventually, Dark gives in. Considering how much he liked to throw around his statistics like flashing billboards with lights, he relents the information with less of a struggle than usual, perhaps softened by the occasion. 

"Almost 4000 years." With his free hand, he waves a few fingers. "Give or take."

Unsatisfied, Anti doesn't budge, so another few moments pass in silence before Dark rolls his eyes and continues. 

"3899. You happy?" 

"Cradlerobber." 

The red-haired demon barks a laugh at the accusation, and Anti comes close in his own way - a thin lipped smile that's laced more with satisfaction for getting an answer than actual humour.  
Regardless, he follows through on his word, following Dark's lead as he carefully knocks the edges of their glasses together and drinks. 

 

-

By the time he finishes his first glass, it's completely wiped the taste of cigarettes from Anti's mouth and he's lighting a new one. It helps distract him from the reality of this newfound knowledge - knowing exactly how much older Dark was than himself. How much more experience he had, casual and lackadaisical behaviour aside.  
He feels very amateur in contrast.

Speaking around the first puff of his cigarette, Anti regards the other demon out of the corner of his eye, from where Dark is now sitting on the railing of the balcony, champagne glasses discarded in leiu of drinking straight from the bottle. 

"Do you remember any of it?"

Dark seems surprised, eyebrows lifting a little, like he wasn't expecting to hear the other's voice again for the rest of the night. 

"Of what?" Anti doesn't know if he's playing dumb or if he isn't playing at all. But it doesn't seem to matter, because Dark speaks again. "My first possession?"

Anti nods and watches Dark rub his face in thought. 

"Not really. I know the first one should be special, but it was the first in a long line of many. I'm a big-picture guy."

Doubt manages to pollute the small 'hmm' that Anti gives, ambiguous like the shapes forming from smoke at the end of his cigarette, dissipating before they got far. Somebody who cared enough to remember the date should theoretically remember more of the possession than Dark did, but also, Dark _should_ do a lot of things. 

"What about your first time?" 

Asking that question was one of his _should nots._  
Anti scrubs a hand over his face. He can't tell if Dark is being a condescending asshole or not, so he doesn't say anything.  
Clearly, he doesn't have to, because Dark keeps going.

"Your first time possessing, not fucking." There's a laugh in his words that Anti can peel back far enough to see that yeah, Dark's just being an asshole. "Though, I'd take a story about either."

"For fuck's sake, Dark, shut the hell up."

It's nothing short of a miracle when, for the first time in almost 4000 years, Dark does as he's told.


End file.
